Good Shepherd, tell us plainly

[greetings – great to be back here St. Augustine’s by-the-Sea, Santa Monica]

In this morning’s Gospel lesson from John, Jesus is being confronted by religious leaders during a celebration (Hanukkah) in which observant Jews remember the heroic faith of their ancestors (Maccabees) who reclaimed Jerusalem and rededicated the temple that had been desecrated by Greek conquerors two centuries earlier.  Understandably, the people confronting Jesus in the portico of the temple want to know if this charismatic guy from the rural country presumes to be the messianic leader who will reclaim Jerusalem from the now Roman occupiers.  

There’s something beguiling about them putting such emphasis on words in order to grasp the truth about God’s love in action among us.  And, Jesus knows this. 

Although he will use words to help people understand his identity and intentions, he is aware how words can be misused and can mislead.  Rather than merely explaining what sort of messiah he is (which was a challenging paradigm shift given the prevailing messianic expectations of his time), he has been demonstrating what true ‘kingdom’ salvation is (beyond nationalistic or tribal restoration) when the rules of righteousness and laws of love are truly fulfilled through actions rather than words.

Jesus has been preaching pretty plainly about positions and roles in the kingdom of God through focusing on restorative relationships among divinely beloved and blessed people previously separated by ideological presumptions.  When Jesus does testify to the truth with words, he prefers using parables that require active inquisitive communal engagement to fully comprehend – again, emphasizing that working through new relationships together is how we will come to know the truth about God’s desire for us to be reconciled as a family.  

To those who want to know his identity and mission, Jesus responds with, “I have told you…the works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me”; essentially saying “hey what more do I need to tell you with my mouth; I’ve been showing you with my living everything you need to know about me and how to realize the kingdom of God at hand.”

How are we telling people plainly through our living who we are in Christ’s name and what this church thing is all about?  About what truth do our works testify? 

Consider this more contemporary parable that says something about the perils of speaking about our faith within the walls of the church (our temple) without telling it through action in the community (God’s vineyard):

Parable of the Lifesaving Station:  On a dangerous seacoast where shipwrecks often occur, there was once a crude little life-saving station. The building was just a hut, and there was only one boat, but the few devoted members kept a constant watch over the sea, and with no thought for themselves went out day and night tirelessly searching for those who were lost. Some of those who were saved and various others in the surrounding area wanted to become associated with the station and gave of their time, money, and effort to support its work. New boats were bought and new crews trained. The little lifesaving station grew.

Some of the members of the lifesaving station were unhappy that the building was so crude and poorly equipped. They felt that a more comfortable place should be provided as the first refuge of those saved from the sea. They replaced the emergency cots with beds and put better furniture in the enlarged building.

Now the lifesaving station became a popular gathering place for its members, and they decorated it beautifully because they used it as a sort of club. Fewer members were now interested in going to sea on life-saving missions, so they hired lifeboat crews to do this work. The lifesaving motif still prevailed in the club’s decorations, and there was a liturgical lifeboat in the room where the club’s initiations were held.

About this time a large ship wrecked off the coast, and the hired crews brought in boatloads of cold, wet, and half-drowned people. They were dirty and sick. The beautiful new club was in chaos. So the property committee immediately had a shower house built outside the club where victims of shipwrecks could be cleaned up before coming inside.

At the next meeting, there was a split among the club membership. Most of the members wanted to stop the club’s lifesaving activities as being unpleasant and a hindrance to the normal social life of the club. Some members insisted upon life-saving as their primary purpose and pointed out that they were still called a life-saving station. But they were finally voted down and told that if they wanted to save the lives of all the various kinds of people who were shipwrecked in those waters, they could begin their own lifesaving station. So they did.

As the years went by, the new station experienced the same changes that had occurred in the old. It evolved into a club, and yet another lifesaving station was founded. History continued to repeat itself, and if you visit that seacoast today, you will find a number of exclusive clubs along that shore. Shipwrecks are frequent in those waters, but most of the people drown. 

I’ve read that this parable was written in 1953 by The Rev. Dr. Theodore O. Wedel, who was ordained an Episcopal priest in 1931, served as Canon of the Washington National Cathedral in Washington, D.C., and also served for a time as president of the Episcopal Church's House of Deputies. (http://www.ecfvp.org/vestrypapers/death-and-resurrection/parable-of-the-lifesaving-station/)

We can talk about our doctrines and theology… yes, we can embellish our spaces with symbols that should speak to the heart of our collective purpose and work… yes, we can even enact beautiful rituals and rites that are to be visible signs of spiritual truth (particularly as Episcopalians)… Let’s not be tempted into believing that ‘saying it plainly’ in common prayer alone, or acting it out in here once a week, is sufficient testament to the world of salvation through suffering and loving together with our living, resurrected Christ.

It’s not that our words are not important – indeed, professing our faith and sharing our stories are powerful testimonies.  And, there’s nothing more revealing and persuasive about new life in Christ than what our charitable actions toward our neighbors communicate out there, beyond the walls of this place.  If a picture is worth a thousand words, acts of self-sacrificing love speak more than any amount words along can express. 

I imagine that most of us yearn to participate in a life-saving station more than merely contributing to the maintenance of yet another clubhouse along the coast… that rather than just trying to tell people what this is all about through, we’re more enlivened when we’re explaining who Jesus is through healing, restorative love, acts of charity and justice, and life-affirming relationships.  

Whether reaching out to our neighbors who are adrift or shipwrecked… or tending to lost sheep among our friends and family… how do others understand you speaking plainly about new life with, in, and through Jesus Christ?

Where is the Good Shepherd?  Is Christ still at work in our world?  Tell us plainly?

Which says it most clearly… a talking-head trying to explain God’s presence in the midst of tragedy, or the witness of people at the end of the Boston marathon, immediately after bombs have gone off, running back into harm’s way to help others in the shadow of death?... platitudes about innocent children at Sandy Hook Elementary being lifted to heaven by angels, or stories of courageous teachers who dared sacrifice their own bodies as shields for the innocent in the face of evil? 

This morning, we heard from Revelation (7:9-17) of a sacrificial Lamb becoming the heavenly shepherd for people from all nations who have survived great tribulation and now enjoy fellowship in a new, heavenly pasture where this is no more hunger, thirst, scorching heat, or tears – just perpetual worship in a new kingdom defined not by the things that have previously separated us, but by a purity and unity in victory over death itself.

We also heard again one of our most memorable metaphors in the pastoral assurances of Psalm 23.  The Lord is our shepherd who walks with us through fear, guides us through imminent danger, and leads us toward generous and abundant nourishment in greener pastures.

In the Gospel reading (John 10:22-30) Jesus likens himself, in contrast to misleading or nefarious leaders of the vulnerable , as a good shepherd, unified with God in heart and mind, who gathers and protects all sheep who follow his voice. 

In what we heard from Acts, a community which believes that death does not have the final word seeks assistance when they are in need.  Peter doesn’t pontificate in the face of their needs; he uses very few words while demonstrating the power of faith in Christ and the Holy Spirit.

And,  remember that in our Gospel lesson last week, Jesus commissions his disciples to be good shepherds to others (“feed my sheep / tend to my flock”). 

As it is written, it’s not enough just to say the right things or merely to claim to have faith – faith without action based in/on that faith is as good as dead (James 2:16-26). 

Our faith expressed through action with Christ is what revives us as well as what is otherwise thought to be dead. 

Gathered together in the name of Jesus, our true messiah and Good Shepherd, we are in the business life-saving - serving as good shepherds to, for, and with our neighbors. 

Let us tell this plainly first through courageous and faithful actions out there… then we have more cause to celebrate our work with Christ through elegant and comforting words when we gather in here at his table each week.

AMEN.

Recognition, redemption, and rally

Good morning St. Bartholomew’s, Wichita... sorry we missed each other on Palm Sunday this year... good to be with you this third Sunday of Easter.

Hard to that it’s been three weeks since the intense journey of Holy Week and two weeks since the glory of Easter Sunday.  Have you settled back into a normal routine? 

How is it for us just two or three weeks after one of the highest points in our liturgical year together.  Did the final stretch of March madness overtake focus on messianic mission?  Has chatting about the ups-n-downs of our Kansas weather replaced passionate prayers?  Has the reality of tax season and the looming deadline of April 15 (tomorrow!) risen as more of a concern than the implications of external life promised through the resurrection of Jesus Christ?

We can imagine, though the particular circumstances were different, that the pattern of behavior was the same with our ancestors in faith, Jesus’ closest circle of friends.

After the roller coaster of emotions during the final week together with Jesus – the joy, the pain, the tragedy, the drama... and shortly after they had emerged from their hiding place in the upper room and had been shocked and awed by the glory of Jesus’ resurrection, the reality of Christ living and the urgency of following him has begun to fade as they return to going about the business of making a living and putting food on the table.  Simon Peter, the ‘rock’ (study symbol of faithfulness) upon which the emerging church is to be founded, says to his friends, “Hey, I’m going fishing.”  They say they’ll go with him.  The tangible, predictably practicality of fishing with friends probably feels pretty good and reassuring after all that they’ve been through together.  Perhaps while they’re out there laboring, as guys are prone to do, they’ll occasionally and maybe indirectly bring up the topic of Jesus the Christ in between cheers and jeers around the semi-competitive team activity of gathering food from the sea.

What does this morning’s lesson from John (John 21:1-19) also tell us?

Their story began with Jesus calling some of them from their routine of fishing for their daily meal and telling them that he’d show them how to fish for people – how to gather people back into the family of God.   After years together and many provocative and powerful examples of what he meant for them to do with their lives and talents, they’re now back focusing on their nets in the sea.  Jesus returns to help them recognize how his ministry has changed their lives and remember how they are now meant to go change the lives of many others.

The risen Lord comes to them as light amid the dimness of their unfruitful routine, gently awakening their recognition that he lives and is still concerned for them... and he instructs them to change perspective and behavior in order to succeed in their work of gathering.  He invites them to feast from plenty.  He redeems the betrayer through inviting affirmations of love.  He tells them to not just gather people together through casting wisely wide nets in the right direction, but to care for and tend to the needs of the huddled masses – “tend my sheep... feed my sheep...” follow the example I’ve given you. 

What’s your equivalent of ‘gone fishing’ right now in your life? 

What’s the practical, perhaps even enjoyable routine that keeps you active with friends, even if the harvest or yield of your collective labor isn’t really all that plentiful? 

Where might Jesus need to return to find you?

Whether he meets you where you are, by the seaside fire on the beach, or here at our table each week, our risen Lord invites us to break bread together with him and in so doing to recognize that we’re now part of one collective body, that we are to nourish ourselves with his strength given sacrificially to us, and that we’re to go feed others by inviting them to share the abundance prepared for us.

And, our risen Savior doesn’t just return to friends amid their benign routines to invite recognition and call them back to his holy work, Jesus also meets people on their ‘roads to Damascus’.  Even when someone is going to great lengths to fight the Good News and the people who are trying to spread it, Jesus may come to that person as a flash of insight or blinding awakening, knocking them off their course, turning their life around, and recruiting that person for the holy work of evangelism even in the face of continued suspicion and persecution.

Jesus did this with Paul, as we’ve heard in this morning’s lesson from Acts (Acts 9:1-20).  Paul’s encounter with the resurrected Christ stopped him in his tracks and sent him instantly in a new direction in life, emboldened with a new faith and courage that sustained him even as he endured the judgments of others who were suspicious of his sudden conversion and his motives for joining ‘The Way’ of Jesus Christ.

Notice that Jesus called a disciple to minister to Paul to facilitate and accelerate Paul’s conversion experience and help Paul see (literally) his new commission from Christ.  Ananias was aware of Paul’s reputation as a trouble maker for believers and was reluctant to face him for fear of putting himself in harm’s way for the sake of Christ’s will.  And yet, Christ compels Ananias and Ananias’s faithful and loving action toward one who was previously a foe leads to Paul’s new vision, baptism, strength for an unparalleled mission of evangelism.

What are we to hear in this? 

I hear two important things: One, no matter how off track a person might seem, even when they have been actively opposing the Gospel, they may still encounter the resurrected Jesus who will change their vision of themselves and their neighbors through charitable love. Two, Jesus may call any of us to minister to someone unexpected in ways that feel risky or threatening to us initially – we are to trust that Christ is with us and that through participating with the Holy Spirit, amazing changes are possible in that person’s live that may have wonderful widespread implications that are beyond anything we’d imagine.

Recognition.  Redemption.  Rally.

Our Lord is risen, indeed.  And just as it did for Peter, Paul, and other early followers of The Way, the reality of Christ’s resurrection has implications for us each day.

Jesus continues to return to us amid our routines, inviting us to recognize his presence in places and people that we might not have expected to find him.

Jesus invites all, even the betrayer and the persecutor, to healing repentance and will redeem the sight and strength of any who accept his offer of grace.

Christ rallies us to action, compelling us to cast wide nets on the right side of our vessels and to then feed and tend to the needs of those gathered back together into God’s one holy, catholic, and apostolic flock.  

Even when loving our neighbors as Jesus has shown us how to love costs us personally in the short term, we are assured through Easter that persecution, pain, and even death doesn’t have the final word in God’s kingdom of glory.

“God of the new fire, and feasting at daybreak: come to us in the dullness of routine and the pain of betrayal; call to us in the way of the cross and the joy of resurrection; through Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God. Amen.”

(Shakespeare, Steven. Prayers for an inclusive church. New York: Church Publishing, 2009)